The Jewel in the Crown
by Mad-Maudlin-42
Summary: This takes place in 1857, and is about when Padma and Parvati Patil’s ancestors who come from India during Dumbledore’s time at Hogwarts when Phineas Nigellus is headmaster. Racial, blood-based, and religious prejudices abound.
1. Chapter 1

Introduction: This story takes place in my historical timeline. That means it follows the story of the founders "Ravenclaw's Wing" which is as of 1-28-05 not posted. Having trouble there, but that doesn't change anything in this story that I know of. I've had to tweak canon (mostly adding generations and moving things around the turn of the century) slightly in order for Phineas Nigellus (from OotP) to be Headmaster during Albus Dumbledore's seventh year. And while the majority of the characters are OCs, they are probably canon-based family names.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, no copyright infringement is intended, the author is not making a cent of profit posting it here. The world of Harry Potter, which I choose to dabble in, is the intellectual property of JK Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Bros and a lot of other bigwigs. I'm a high school sophomore with a taste for Victorian England.

Chapter 1: In which three siblings are Sorted and the cards are dealt.

Tuesday, 1 September, 1857

Alastair Patil dragged his fingers in the water as the fleet of small boats glided across the lake to the castle. He ignored his sisters as best he could.

"What do we do first, Josephine?" asked little Sophie.

"There is something called a Sorting. Here at Hogwarts, there are four divisions of students, based on character. I do not know how the separation takes place; it very well may be a test," answered the elder sister.

"I hope we're together," said Sophie.

"The Sorting takes place for the first year students only-- or rather, most of the time that is. Alastair and I are older but we're obviously just coming to Hogwarts, so we're going to be Sorted with the first years like yourself."

"It's a silly name, Hogwarts," said Alastair morosely. "In India--"

"We're not in India anymore!" Josephine snapped. "You'll have to get used to it, Alastair. Britain is our new home."

"It's not my home," Alastair muttered as he got out of the boat onto the soft cold soil.

"You'll have to make it your home," said Josephine. "Come, let us follow the rest."

Alastair couldn't help but feel out of place; because he was fifteen, he was quite taller than all of the other students yet to be sorted. He jumped when a male voice suddenly spoke behind him. "There you are! You must be the Patils."

Josephine turned around and faced the rather unpleasant looking wizard. "Yes, sir," she responded.

"I am Headmaster Nigellus. Please come with me, I must explain to the school the unusual circumstances concerning your arrival."

"Yes, sir," said Josephine again. They followed the Headmaster away from the crowd of eleven year olds and into a vast candle-lit hall. It was hard for the three Indian students to take in all of it at once.

The Headmaster took his place at a podium in front of the staff table and gestured for the three to stand beside him.

"Another year at Hogwarts has begun," drawled Nigellus. "I am your Headmaster. It is necessary that I inform the new students-- as well as those of you who are returning and need reminder-- the Forbidden Forest is called Forbidden for good reason. If you value your integrity as a student, you will obey. This year, we ask you not to stray into the lower dungeons. Quidditch try-outs will be Saturday, September fifth.

"The Sorting will commence in a moment, but first I must explain something. Three students from the Queen's crown colony of India are joining us this year. They began their training at the Prajapati School of Magic which is run by colonists from Hogwarts. Although Miss Josephine and Mister Alastair Patil are above the usual age of being sorted, they shall be tonight regardless."

"Not very welcoming," whispered Alastair.

"Ssh," said Sophie.

"Please take your place amongst the others," the Headmaster instructed with no emotion in his voice.

They nodded and obeyed. A tall female professor brought out three-legged seat and placed a ragged old hat in the center of it. It began to sing.

"That's all?" Alastair muttered as the professor read off names. "The silly old hat knows where to put us?"

"Well if it was the founders' idea, then it must work," said Josephine with reason.

At last it was their turn; the hat decided that "Orwell, Sayer" belonged in Slytherin and the tall professor called out "Patil, Alastair!" in her high nasal voice.

The hall became utterly silent. Alastair quickly took his seat and placed the hat on his head. "Well!" said the hat.

"Don't sort me," thought Alastair fervently. "Just let me go home."

"I'm afraid that I can't arrange that," it said. "Now let me see. . . you're very loyal, that's clear. And you're very bold. But it's logic that you understand the most. You must go to. . . RAVENCLAW!"

As Alastair took his place at the table, the professor called Josephine forward. She placed it gingerly on her head and waited.

"Hmm," said the hat. "So you're from the colony."

"Yes, I am," she thought. "But I'm determined to make this place my home."

"Fair enough," said the hat. "Godric Gryffindor's first wife was a Moor. Now let's see. . . You're certainly good at reasoning with your brother because you have so much in common. But you're proud too, and a pureblood. Slytherin? No, I don't think so. You have such a keen wit-- it had better be. . . RAVENCLAW!"

The blue and copper table cheered as Josephine joined them. "You're from India?" said an excited second year. Josephine nodded. "How fascinating!" he said. Alastair simply glared at him.

"Oh, you're being such a prat, Alastair! Let's see if Sophie joins us," said Josephine.

She timidly followed the others' lead when the professor announced "Patil, Sophia." She almost leaped up when she heard the hat speak to her:

"So you're the little one, eh? And the sweetest of the lot. You know where your priorities lie, don't you? You can only belong in. . . HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sophie looked longingly over at her siblings' table. "You'll be fine," Josephine mouthed across the hall. Sophie gave a small wave and joined the other new Hufflepuff first-years who had already been called.

Josephine's first class was Divination with the Slytherins. She lingered in the doorway of the dim classroom, unsure if this was the room she needed to be in. "Could you move, darkie?" said a shrill voice behind her.

Josephine turned and stepped aside. "I beg your pardon?" she asked tentatively. The girl who had spoken entered the room. She wore a Slytherin uniform and was sitting in an ornate wheelchair. Her almost white hair was drawn up tight in a bun and her pale blue eyes seemed small and narrow. The student steering her wheeled throne raised his eyebrows in amusement. His eyes were a rather unusual hazel-green color.

"I asked you to move, darkie," she said. She seemed older than sixteen.

"Please do not call me that; my name is Josephine Patil. Let us not make bad first impressions," she responded politely.

"Too late for that," said the black-haired boy and pushed the wheelchair across the room. They both snickered.

"Good morning, Professor Trelawney," the girl said sweetly to the professor.

"Don't let her bother you," said a quiet voice at Josephine's shoulder. A tall boy with dark auburn hair and a Ravenclaw tie smiled rather awkwardly. "That's Camille Malfoy. You'd best keep out of her way during this class; she's a true Seer."

"Good advice," said Josephine as they took seats next to each other. "What is your name; I suppose you know who I am already."

"Aberforth Dumbledore. Honestly, some of the Slytherins are so fixated on blood status and things of that nature. I don't care that you're not Anglican."

"I'm pure-bred if that's what they mean. But no, I'm not Anglican. That will never change." The thin professor who had read the names a the sorting shuffled a deck of tarot cards loudly. The room became silent.

"Welcome, sixth years," she said. "I am Professor Cassandra Trelawney. Ravenclaws should consider themselves fortunate that they have _two_ Seers in this room to aid them. Malfoy will be the first to let me know if something is out of order in this class." She smiled demurely and glanced about the room, her eyes coming to rest on Josephine. "Patil, could you begin this class by showing us some things you learned at Prajapati? A tarot reading, perhaps?" She placed the cards on Josephine's desk, like the dropping of a gauntlet in challenge.

"Of course, Professor," she answered. "What question shall I ask?"

"Oh, you may decide," said Trelawney, her voice rather bored.

"Very well. Will I succeed here at Hogwarts although it is not my home?"

Camille Malfoy giggled. Aberforth cast her a glare which she ignored. Josephine cut the deck, shuffled, and drew her first card. "The present situation which affects my question is represented by the Queen of Swords reversed." She placed the card face up on the table. "This card signifies a cruel woman; someone who is narrow-minded. In contrast, the major influence in my situation is the Knight of Cups," she continued, crossing the Queen with the Knight. "He could be the arrival of a friend, or perhaps the opening of an opportunity."

As she drew the next card, Aberforth's eye caught hers for a moment, but he glanced back down to his textbook when he noticed her gaze. "My goal is the two of Cups-- balance, friendship, and acceptance." Malfoy shifted the position of her wheels, making a squeaking sound on the stone floor. It broke Josephine's concentation. "Am I doing this the correct manner, Professor?" she asked.

"Your delivery is dull and basic, but your interpretations are correct. You have obviously never been taught by a Seer before." Trelawney gestured for Josephine to continue.

"In my past is the Hanged Man, an interruption of my life; a change in my perspectives. This moment itself is represented by the card of Justice reversed, signifier of bias and intolerance." She paused, then met Malfoy's eye boldly. "This is something I hope will change." The professor seemed to note the hostility in the Slytherin's face and made a small cough to prompt Josephine to continue.

"In my future lie obstacles and problems; the Nine of Wands reversed." She began a different line of cards to the side of the cross pattern. "I myself am represented by the Wheel of Fortunes, one who accepts changes be they ill or in my favor."

Above that card went the World. "These are my feelings," Josephine explained. "An end of one way of life and the beginning of another. But most strongly present are my fears," she said, drawing the card. "The Tower sums this perfectly-- the destruction of friendships and family, a sudden catastrophic change.

"But in the end, the answer to my question lies in this card, the Ace of Swords. As you should know, it represents victory."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In which the professors review the situation and Alastair meets the Head Boy.

Sylvester Black stroked his mustache and leaned on the desk. "Now see here, Phineas," he said. "This very same argument is what drew the Founders apart. What good did it get them? Ravenclaw's only daughter went to convent in Italy. Slytherin comitted suicide!"

"That has not been confirmed," said the Headmaster. He leaned back in the green leather chair behind the desk, which was cluttered with piles of bizarre documents and artifacts. Sylvester removed his hand from the desktop when he noticed it was in danger of coming in contact with an open pot of acid-green ink.

"Ask Nicholas Flamel," he said.

"Who can trust Flamel's memory? Besides, he was in your house. His low opinion of Slytherin is known." The Headmaster shuffled papers distractedly, as if to give the message he had better things to do than argue with Professor Black.

"Or rather, his distaste of prejudice is known. I am ashamed you are my uncle." Sylvester paced the circular office, followed by the gazes of past Headmasters.

"I can remove you from your position as Transfiguration professor and head of Ravenclaw House," Nigellus threatened.

"Yes, but you can't not make me your nephew."

"I regret the fact daily, Black. Now leave."

"Not until you agree to consider what I repeatedly have discussed with you. The Patils are a place to start." A few of the portraits nodded their approval. Phineas dutifully ignored them.

"I know how much wrangling in the Ministry you did for their arrival. It's disgraceful," he said condesendingly.

"It's my duty to the Queen."

"The Queen does not know of our existance, and with luck she never shall."

"How can you say that? There is still time to merge the Muggle and Wizard worlds," said Sylvester, the passion rising in his voice.

"You are a dreamer, Black. Do you not understand their view of us? They are afraid of us! They would never accept us. In the sixteenth century"

"In the sixteenth century, hell! This is the nineteenth. What about the parents of the Muggleborn students; the parents of Professor Hodge? Are they afraid of their daughter? She found her calling in this so-called 'Wizard World' but she came out of this 'Muggle World'."

"Leave my sight, Black, before I have to remove you from this establishment."

"You know nothing of the injustices"

"And neither do you! You are a high-born pureblood heir. Know your place next time, Black!"

"Not if my place invovles patronizing someone just because they're not pure bred, not white, not Anglican!"

_Dearest Mother,_ wrote Anne Hodge. _I've started another year of classes at the Wizardry Acdemey. I do hope you're well. If you need more of the potion that's been helping you, be sure to send me a letter. Professor Stephan Rosier isn't very fond of making it, but he's been rather helpful lately. On the day I returned to this school, he—_

"What are you doing?" said Bernard MacGregor sitting down opposite her in the staffroom.

"I am writing a letter to my mother. She has not been well." Anne flicked the tip her quill aimlessly.

"To your mother?" said the broad-shouldered Scot. "Not a gushing letter to your dear finacé?"

The Herbology professor pushed a lock of red-brown hair behind her ear. "No," she said quietly.

"Have you taught any of Sylvester's beloved students from the Queen's crown colony?" he asked, a glaringly obvious change of subject. "I've only had second, third and fourth years so far."

"I had the sweet little one first thing this morning. I see no difference between her and the other students though, except that she doesn't speak English quite as well. I think the experiment's a good idea, don't you, Bernard?" She fanned the sheet of parchment with the feather to dry the ink.

"I'm not sure, Anne," he said. "I hear rumours the Syltherins want to mutiny'petition for their removal' was the actual term I heard but it amounts to the sameand not just the students. Cassandra and Stephan were against this from the start."

"Oh, it can't be that whole blood-status mess again! It's a miracle Nigellus hired me at all," Anne replied.

Bernard shook his head. "No, they're pureblood. It's their faith that's in question. Hindus. I suppose this was to be expected"

"What was to be expected?" said Stephan Rosier, entering with a stack of Potions essays to correct.

"The bad crop of white pumpkins," said Anne. "With that late frost, it's a wonder they came up at all."

"You're lying. You were talking about the Hindus. You're rather loud, MacGregor."

"You're not really going to petition, are you?" asked Anne. "It's only been one day. Give them some chance."

"They're a novelty," said Bernard. "Four months from now, they'll be no different from any other student. You can't expect anyone sorted in their sixth year not to be unusal for a while. It will wear off and everything will be normal again."

"Four months? Would you swear by that?" said Stephan, his grey eyes narrowing.

"Yes. Fifteen galleons, Rosier."

"You're a fool," Stephan smiled as he shook the Defence professor's hand.

Alastair scanned the shelves of the Hogwarts library. If there was one thing better here, he concided, it was the amount of books. His dark hand swept across the leather bindings of the books as he glanced at the titles. "Oi there! Patil!" hissed a voice from the shelf. _Books don't talk,_ he thought. Alastair moved a book to the side and saw a pair of eyes belonging to someone on the other side of the bookcase. The eyes gestured for him to come around. Warily, Alastair replaced the book and turned the corner.

The brown eyes belonged to a tall boy with a perfect face like an engraving. Behind him was Camille Malfoy, whom Josephine had complained about, and the black-haired boy who pushed her wheelchair. All three wore Slytherin uniforms. "Enjoying Hogwarts?" asked the tall boy.

"What's it to you?" Alastair spat, his eyes narrowing.

The boy threw up his hands in mock defeat. "You're not going to get anywhere with that attitude, Patil. We seem to gotten off on the wrong foot. This is Marvolo Alcott and Camille Malfoy. I'm Charles Grindlewald, Head Boy." He held out his hand. Alastair took it curtiously.

"Alastair Patil," he said warily.

"Alastair? Not a very Indian name as far as I knew. But I stray. Were you going to try for the Quidditch team on Saturday?"

"I am not certain. Why?"

"I'm scoping out the competition, of course. I'm Slytherin's team captain and seeker. Alcott is a beater."

"I don't suppose she's on the team," Alastair hazarded.

Camille rolled her eyes. "The teams are male-only. The sole women's team is the Kenmare Kestrals, and what a lot of barbaric harpies they are. They claim to be undefeated, but the fact is that noone dares sink as low as to play them."

"I will think about it," said Alastair.

"Ravenclaw needs a beater, a seeker, and a chaser. You're a fifth year, you've got priority. . ."

"I played beater at Prajapati," he said before thinking.

"There we are. How well do you play?" said Alcott.

Alastair scrutinized them. If they knew his ability, they might attempt sabotage. "Not as well as the older students," he said.

"A fair statement," said Grindlewald. "What if Alcott tried to smash you with a bludger?"

"I'd smash him," Alastair said, annoyed.

"Good!" Grindlewald turned back and conversed quietly with the other three. "I wish you luck, Patil, you'll need it."


End file.
